


The word

by Beweme



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Gender Dysphoria, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Self-Doubt, Threats of Violence, Trans Character, Vent Writing, Wilson is trying so hard guys, and depressed, attempted selfharm, but alas he is dumb, maxwell is trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beweme/pseuds/Beweme
Summary: Maxwell thought he would never have to explain himself to anyone ever again, never have to live through the humiliation of being different after surviving so long like this.Why did Wilson have to be an idiot and call him the word that he was not and ruin everything.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	The word

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed be super short but it got out of hand whooops.
> 
> Kinda venting, I guess, my relationship with gender is complicated.

  
The worst thing wasn't that Wilson saw, no.

It was the look on Wilson's face that made everything worse.

It was the look of pity, the look of some kind of misunderstanding kindness, the way his eyebrows drew together ever so slightly in silent concern, the subtle way the corner of his mouth pulled into a smile that was meant to be caring, worried. And the terrible, well-meaning way he couldn't set his eyes anywhere in his nervousness of doing something wrong, and the soft tone in his voice, very careful and tender, so _worried_ of him, and the overall heavy intent to let Maxwell know that Wilson was _not_ judging him in everything the younger man did.

Maxwell was used to certain types of stares. He had learned to live with the hate and disgust and even pity, he had learned to just deal with it when those kinds of stares were continuously glued on the back of his neck, always burning holes into his skin. He was able to handle the pressure of those mistrustful, suspicious eyes on him. He had earned that, and in the end he didn't want to force the people to stop feeling the negative emotions towards him that they were very much entitled to.

But the look that Wilson was giving him was something he had thought he had been able to leave behind already, something he hadn't seen for a long, long time.

Maybe it had been his own fault... If he only could've been faster, only could've avoided the spiderwarrior that jumped on him and sunk it's venomous teeth in his chest... He was just lucky that it had been Wilson who found him. That it had been someone who already cared about him, someone who wouldn't seek a way to hurt him and use any given opportunity to take the revenge on him.

He had been barely conscious when he had been carried back to the camp, Wilson's mumbled words trying to maybe comfort him when he pressed Maxwell's body against himself protectively. The spot where the spiderteeth had sunken in was the polar opposite of ideal, and he was lucky his bindings were in the way, the spiderwarrior's fangs, even if sharp and pointy, not enough to bite through them. He got lucky. He didn't die.

In retrospect, he would've preferred if he did.

It would've saved him the shame of waking up in his tent, Wilson's warm palm pressed on his cheek, the relieved and welcoming smile on his face when Maxwell opened up his eyes. It didn't take much longer than a second or two to realize what was wrong, the too open feel around his chest, too little pressure, too freeing way he was able to breathe.

He didn't have his jacket on. only his shirt, and even it had been pulled open to treat the wound, and he was able to only feel a slight gratefulness of the blanket over him.

No, the worst part was not that Wilson saw, not that he was suddenly able to piece together why Maxwell was so modest, why there was the need to be close but never letting Wilson to touch him.

The absolutely worst part was the cold feeling he got when Wilson was giving him that look, that unneeded worry and care and concern and the softness he suddenly had in everything he said and did, as if Maxwell had changed somehow, as if he wasn't the same he had always been, as if he needed to be treated like a delicate little flower lest he'd shatter down and break now.

"Maxwell, you... Why didn't you tell me you are a ẅ̴̨̛́͋̾̅̉͠o̷̼̳͕̻͐̽͗ͅm̸̗̘͈̗̓̄͐͝â̶̩͕̬̳̚n̷͈͖̪̓̍"

_Don't say it. Don't call him that. It's not true._

Maxwell cringed at the word as it left Wilson's lips and he couldn't hide the way it cut his ears, grasping his temples in hurt and anger.

-

_"You're a really sweet person, William, you really are. But I... I like men."_

_The lump in his throat was pressing so hard it almost cut off his breath "I am a man."_

_There was the pity, always the damn pity, and the certain look when someone tried to dig into his brain and find out why he was doing this, why he had lied about who he was, what the hell was wrong with him-_

_"No, no you're not."_

_He was. He was. He was._

_He was a man as much as the one in front of him, giving him the pitiful look and trying to understand if he was just stupid or not mentally quite alright._

-

He was.

"Shut up" was the only thing he was able to spat out between his teeth, his fingers grasping his thinning hair, not trying - not wanting - to even look at Wilson. There was a silence in the tent, filling up with uncertainty and the loud unvoiced questions in Wilson's tongue and the creaking of the gears turning in his head when he tried to understand, and now the silence, although it was what Maxwell had demanded, was starting to get suffocating.

Wilson tried to touch him, the hand always just too nice and too caring, always trying to give him what he needed, but Maxwell slapped it away and gritted his teeth, trying not to feel humiliated and betrayed, trying not to think that he had really wanted this to work, really wanted to be himself with someone who wouldn't start seeing him differently. There was a tight feeling in his chest, wanting to burst, choking almost, when he couldn't stop feeling like everything he had worked for was now ruined.

"I... I still love you-" Wilson started carefully, but was cut off by Maxwell's growl.

"Wow, am I supposed to feel _grateful_ for that?! That you are willing to still be with me after you saw that I have breasts? That you are so _generously_ still sticking by me even if I'm-" he couldn't say the word, he didn't want to, _he wasn't._

...But Wilson had said it, and he saw and he knew, and now Maxwell had to deal with the wrong kind of stares, the wrong kind of looks and touches and words.

Wilson looked hurt, understandably, because after all he was just trying to help and he was trying to give Maxwell what he thought the man wanted, but he wasn't helping and he couldn't give Maxwell what he wanted or needed anymore, because he had ruined it by looking at Maxwell with so much confusion and worry and pity and care and he had called him a _ẅ̴̛́͋̾͠o̷̼̳͕̻͐̽͗ͅm̸̗̘͈̗̓̄͐͝â̶̩͕̬̳̚n̷͈͖̪̓̍_.

"I'm just trying to understand what-"

Maxwell didn't even hear the rest of what he said, the blind rage rising up to cover the shame and the hurt. Wilson didn't understand, he couldn't. he had _no idea_ what it was like to grow up and realize you didn't like the way your figure started to look like and _no idea_ how it felt to be stuck in the body that had parts that were not yours and _no idea_ how much it hurt when people downright refused to see you as yourself or call you the person you were, and started treating you differently just because you were a bit different from them.

He'd had enough. Enough. He was going to fix himself if it prevented Wilson giving him that look. He pushed the man out of his way and grabbed the razor, clutching his shirt tight to hide himself. He saw there was a different confusion and concern on Wilson's eyes now, but he just gave the man a glare and rushed out. He heard Wilson shout something after him, and Willow, sitting by the fire (where else) asked him a confused question, but he didn't hear and didn't care, didn't stop to answer, he didn't stop to wait for their judgement.

He'd had enough.

He didn't want to go through this again.

_Not with Wilson._

He run to the pond, kneeling there and gritting his teeth at the person who was looking back at him from the dark surface of the water. He didn't like what he had to see. But he needed a mirroring surface, as well as something to use to wash the blood away, and then he'd be a little bit more normal, he would be like he wanted to be, like he was meant to be, like he was, like he had always been but was never seen as-

Maxwell threw his shirt down and grasped his other breast and rose up the razor. Wilson always kept it clean and sharp, he'd only need to do a couple of good slashes, and he'd finally get rid of these things and maybe Wilson would still look at him the same way as before-

There was a sudden hand firmly tightening around his wrist, and Maxwell instantly tried to yank himself free, started fighting against the arms that pulled around him and tried to stop him and he started kicking and hissing and squirming in the hold around him, carefully but firmly pushing him on the ground.

"Maxwell what the hell? Stop just- Give, give it, give me the razor-" Wilson's voice was angry, like it often was when he was worried and couldn't help, and it started to turn into a frustration as the man kept fruitlessly trying to solve whatever problem he had been put up against.

"Unhand me you brute!" Maxwell just yelled, and only now just realized that his vision was already blurry from the tears he hadn't noticed or tried to blink away, and his voice was thickened with the fear and shame and his hatred started to cover it all up again, to protect himself from the hurt, but then Wilson pried the razor from his grip and pushed him down to stop his throwing and struggling, and Maxwell felt the anger flow down the drain as he uselessly fought against the weeps that escaped his lips.

"You can't do that, you- What were you thinking?!" Wilson yelled at him, face red, his pity far gone now and replaced with the confused anger and the deep, deep worry. Maxwell tried to push im away, tried to fight against his strong arms that kept him down and safely pinned him under the other man, but Wilson had always been stronger of the two, he would always win in the close-range fights without weapons.

"Let's me go!" he just cried out, ignoring the way his voice tried to crack and tremble, and Wilson only tightened his grip.

Then, a sudden noise of something, or rather someone, approaching broke their fight. Wilson gave Maxwell a panicked look, which the older Man answered by even bigger panic. Wilson rose up quickly, giving his partner a fast look, and he only needed to see Maxwell's eyes widening, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to hide behind them even thought he knew it was for vain.

Wilson didn't waste any time thinking before snatching the shirt from the ground and the jacket he had taken with him, and quickly handing them to Maxwell, almost pushing them into his hands, making sure he could hide behind the fabric that layered away everything he didn't want the others to see.

After maybe just seconds Willow walked to the clearing full of ponds, and stopped to stare at Wilson, who stood in front of Maxwell, trying a way too hard to act casual, and her gaze slowly lowered to the thin man sitting on the ground behind the other one.

Wilson realized how this must've looked like. Maxwell sitting on the ground, teary-eyed and shaking, pressing his clothes against his bare upper body, and Wilson just hovering around trying to act normal, a razor laying on the ground not far from them. It must've looked very sketchy to anyone who'd come by this kind of a sight.

"Hey, sooo... we noticed that you two were heading here in a rush and..." Willow furrowed her brows, looking Wilson straight in the eyes "I thought I'd come to check out what's going on. Is everything here okay?" Her voice was not inculpatory, maybe just a bit concerned.

Wilson nodded, and Willow nodded back, leaning on the side and cocking her head, eyeing at Maxwell instead, looking surprisingly less angry at the man than usually "...Everything cool there, Maxwell?"

It took the man a while to answer, but when he did, he just nodded firmly. Willow seemed content, and turned back to Wilson "Okay. I'll be close by burning some trees if you - either of you - want something. Bye then guys." she told them, and very slowly walked back the way she had come from, not hiding the way she kept glancing at them over her shoulder. God, her curiosity would end up badly either for her or someone else one of these days.

Wilson released a sigh. If it would've been anyone else than Wilson and Maxwell, Willow no doubt would've rushed into action, empowered by the first idea than came to mind from what she thought was happening here. Luckily she trusted Wilson enough to know he would never do something so foul to someone, and she still didn't fully trust Maxwell yet, so maybe she understood that this must've been something that would be best to leave only to the men it concerned.

Speaking of which...

Wilson turned around to look at Maxwell. The man was hanging his head, fists grasping his clothes so tight it was a miracle they weren't torn apart. Wilson let his shoulders drop and knelt down, landing his hands helplessly on his lap. He might be still very confused, very unsure of what's going on or what it exactly is that Maxwell wants from him, but rest assured, it's still his Maxwell all the same.

...There was probably a good reason why Maxwell was hiding his breasts. Probably a good reason that had something to do with being... not a man, not the same way Wilson was. But it didn't feel right to think that, it wasn't like Maxwell was any different now. He was still Maxwell.

Wilson didn't understand, but he tried to, and he wanted to. It was obviously a sensitive subject to Maxwell, and Wilson very much wanted to give his partner his own space and time to handle his feelings about the fact that Wilson knew his secret now. But it would sure help a lot if Maxwell gave him a smallest hint of how to approach this thing, how he wanted Wilson to react.

Whatever this was, it didn't turn Wilson away. On the contrary, it made him want to stick by Maxwell even closer. Listen and comfort him so he wouldn't feel like he needed to hide something, so he would be happy the way he was, whatever way it might be.

"Do you want to..." he paused, licking his lips and swallowing in nervousness "Do you want to tell me-"

"No. Go away."

He stood up. He didn't know at which point exactly, but he had offended Maxwell, that much was clear. Maxwell needed space from him, needed privacy to clear his own thoughts right now. Still, Wilson couldn't just leave with a clear conscience knowing that Maxwell was very upset and distressed to the point he had tried to harm himself. The scientist sighed.

"Maxwell. We're going back to the camp now. I'm not leaving anywhere without you."

The man on the ground just gripped his clothes tighter, head down and shoulders up. Wilson didn't rush him, didn't try to make him move before he was ready. Instead he stood where he was, waiting in silence he hoped was helping Maxwell to calm down.

Eventually the taller man put on his clothes and stood up, pushing Wilson out of his way with his shoulder as he walked by. Wilson frowned, but didn't say a word as he followed the man back to the campsite.

\---

Maxwell had noticed that Wilson had let him be for the latest couple of days. Wilson kept an eye on Maxwell, but he wasn't coming to talk to him personally, wasn't doing things with him or coming to sleep in his tent. And it was fine, Maxwell thought when he stared at the darkness around the camp, he didn't want to talk to Wilson.

He didn't notice the shadow that had appeared next to him first, but when he did, Maxwell was a bit surprised that out of all the people in this messed up world, the one who he thought hated him the most, came to suddenly stand next to him, pointing her head on the empty space beside him on the log he was sitting on.

"Hi ya there, buddy. Can I getta word?"

Maxwell only briefly rose his head to give Winona a long, irritated glare, until he looked back down and waved his hand "Do what you wish."

The woman wasted no time and sat down, throwing her leg over the other one and leaning back in very relaxed way. Maxwell tried not to groan, he really wasn't in the mood of company or useless chit-chat, and he didn't get along with Winona all that well.

"I see you're kinda down on the dumps. Wanna tell me why?"

Maxwell was silent. No, he didn't want to tell her why. If Wilson didn't understand, then she was the last person who'd even try to. Not in his case. She would've made his life a living hell if he ever let her found out...

"Okay then, I'll cut the chase. I know."

The world stopped. Every hair on his neck stood up and his body tensed up in defense mode, a horrifying cold taking over his insides and his heart racing like it was the last time it ever could. He grasped his knees tight, staring into nothing, breathing steady but threatening to get shallow every time he exhaled out a suffocating air from his lungs.

"...H-how?" he managed to breath out, too scared to say anything else. Winona only laughed.

"Don't mess yer pants there buddy, I'm not gonna hurt ya. I just noticed a couple of things here and there and put two and two together. " Winona teased him, surprisingly lightly, mood unaffected by the short yet terrifying exchange of words they just had. Then she huffed out a short snort, and leaned on her knees. Maxwell was too afraid to move.

"I came to tell you that... I get it. I understand you."

Maxwell hihgly doubted that. How could she ever understand? She had no idea of the stress and pressure he was always under, and how could she even begin to understand the way it hurt to be different and then people treated you like you were mentally challenged or pervert because of it? No, he really didn't believe she understood him.

The man gathered enough courage to give her a careful yet stern, distrustful rise of his brow, and the handywoman just smirked at him.

"I'm like you. I'm a a̴̿͂̍̚ w̴̦̘̳̩̗̫̍͐̃̊ȯ̴̺͍̗͊̉̃͛͊̏m̴̥̺̟͕̖͂̌̔̕͘͜͝ͅa̵͒̐͊̾̆n̵̙̤̝̘̝̑͛̂̂..."

There it was again, the cursed word that people refused to stop using about him. He was not. He felt his fingernails digging way way deep down in his knees, undoubtedly leaving behind bruises where he kept grasping himself uncomfortably.

...Making fun of him. She was _making fun of him_. She knew and she came here to rub it in his face that he shared something with her that he wished he didn't, and he felt the burning sensation of being humiliated, being ridiculed rising in his chest and burning like a wildfire, destructive and painful and suffocating-

"...But I don't have a body like other a̴̿͂̍̚ ̵̪̎̏̉̏͑͑̋w̴̦̘̍͐̃̊ȯ̴̺͍̗͊̉̃͛͊̏m̴̥̺̟͕͂̌̔̕͘͜͝ͅen̵̙̤̝̑͛̂̂ do. I... I wasn't born like that."

It clicked in his head faster than he would've expected.

The burning shame that was eating him alive was washed away by the surprise and the sudden relief, the sudden realization that he wasn't being made fun of after all, that maybe Winona _did_ understand.

"Oh. I see." was all he mustered out of his mouth, unsure and taken aback, but the mechanic didn't seem to mind. She just waved her hand nonchalantly.

"Yeah. Ain't always easy being like this. People tend to say lot of harsh shit. Took a while to get used da that."

"Hm." Maxwell nodded, getting a little bit more comfortable, less threatened, and he shifted to sit a bit more straight.

"...Ya ever told Charlie?"

Maxwell shook his head. How could've he ever told Charlie? He couldn't risk losing someone so close to him, the _only_ person who was close to him. If he had told her... What if she said something mean? What if she was disgusted, what if... What if she abandoned him?

He shook just thinking about it. No, he never told her, he didn't want to lose her because he was the way he was. But oh well, not like it would've made any difference in the end, it seemed that he had lost Charlie anyway.

"Sis spoke pretty highly of you on her letters. She was good people, she would have accepted you. She accepted me." Winona smirked at him, slamming her rough hand on his back, and Maxwell winched, scowled at her and started to nervously dust his suit, even though there was no need. It was an old habit, a nervous thing he did sometimes to give himself a little control on things.

"I suppose she would've... Charlie was a saint."

"Ppfftt, nah! She was a big ol' dummy with the soft spot to hard-to-crack nuts like you." Winona just laughed, and even though Maxwell usually found her absolutely irritating, too loud and too straightforward, too intruding, he started to slowly relax. Maybe it was a little easier with someone who really understood, really was like him, or maybe it was because if _Winona_ was willing to not use this against him to ruin his life here, then he had some hope that maybe someone else would as well. Even though he was never going to tell anyone his secret, it was a nice thought.

"... The scientist doesn't know nothing 'bout this, huh?" The handywoman's voice got noticeably lower and softer, and she didn't even try to pry the answer out of him when Maxwell tensed up and groaned in frustrated tone, rising his hand to rub his forehead.

"He does. But we haven't talked about it." He confessed, looking down. There was a knot in his stomach, something that refused to untangle, and there it would stay for a long time, because Maxwell knew he had lost Wilson. He knew Wilson didn't understand. Wilson wanted to, poor bastard, but he had already shown what he really thought, voiced his thoughts about Maxwell, about his body. That he didn't think that Maxwell was a real man. He would start treating him differently now, speak to him differently, act around him differently.

Nothing about him had changed, yet people would always start treating him differently.

Winona allowed him a small silence, until she started talking again "You don't wanna talk 'bout it with him, then?"

Maxwell didn't. Why would he? He'd only ever hear the same thing, the same worried answers, the same concern over his mental health. There would be disgustingly casual comments over his body, how it was waste to not embrace it, how he was wrong to take it away from people, _from people it didn't even belong to_ , and he was sick and tired of listening what he should do with the prison he lived in and how he should act because he happened to have it.

He had thought it had gotten easier, after the years and years and years having to live with himself. He had thought that he was fine with it, fine being like this, but then someone always found out, and suddenly he realized that people were talking to him differently, looking at him differently, touching him differently. And it would always be because of the body they thought he wasn't supposed to have. 

He didn't offer Winona an answer of any kind, staring tiredly somewhere on the ground. The woman shrugged, standing up and stretching her arms.

"Well, you do you, 'pal'. Wilson's a good guy, tho. An idiot, but a good guy anyways. I gotta keep working on that one machine, but uhh... I am here if you want to talk about it, hey?"

Maxwell watched after her as she left, feeling noticeably less distaste towards her. Then he bowed his head and crossed his fingers, leaning on them and thinking.

Wilson _was_ a good guy. He was the best there was, a real pal, a great friend. But that was exactly why Maxwell just wanted to forget any of this and pretend it never happened. He didn't want to lose Wilson, he didn't want to lose the only person here who really cared about him. Who he really cared about, too. He didn't want to ruin it by trying to explain something Wilson might not understand, or worse, understood and thought less about him because of it.

_'She would have accepted you. She accepted me.'_

Maxwell furrowed his brows and released a long sigh. Well, perhaps Charlie would've accepted him, he wouldn't know. He never gave her a chance to understand, and in a way he now wished that he had. Things could've been different. But there was always the terrifying 'what if'. What if she wouldn't have accepted him, not the way she had before, not the way he wanted her to? Winona was her sister, it was different. Maxwell might've not gotten the same understanding as she did, even if Charlie cared about him.

But what if she did accept.

What if Wilson did.

Maxwell sighed again. He could keep up his silence for the rest of the eternity, pretend, like he always did, that there was nothing to talk about. But he had learned that Wilson was different. Wilson would pester him until the day he perished, and he didn't wish to drive the other man mad by refusing to talk to him.

So he got up from the log and, after a short hesitation, headed to the scientist's tent.

Wilson was sleeping, or at least he was laying down his eyes closed. Maxwell didn't ask permission when he entered, nor did he ask one when he slipped under the thick blanket of fur. He felt like he had earned the right to not ask permission this time.

But he wasn't trying to wake the younger man up. He just let him lay there, and slowly pulled his arm around his chest.

He didn't want Wilson to think of him differently. He didn't want Wilson to see him as someone else now. He wanted Wilson to pretend he saw nothing and that things could be the way they always had been.

A sluggish, sleepy moan came from the man who Maxwell was loosely holding, and it took Wilson a while to realize that he wasn't alone in his tent.

"...Maxwell? Is that you?" the man tried to turn around, but in the state of small panic Maxwell pushed him back before he could turn far enough to see his face.

"Yes yes, me." he said, a bit too fast, a bit too coldly. Wilson let out a quiet 'oh' that sounded unsure and hesitant.

The silence, again, settled inside the tent and swallowed them. Wilson was afraid to move. Afraid to turn around or say anything, almost afraid to even breathe.

It wasn't usually Maxwell who sought out to him after they had some kind of disagreement. Maxwell usually took more time to calm himself down, and Wilson had made it a habit to wait at least a few hours, depending how bad the fight had been, before he would go to Maxwell.

And after he had experimented on things a little bit after one particular fight, it turned out that Maxwell wasn't likely to come to make up things or apologize at all if Wilson didn't make the first move. Maxwell would just avoid him, until eventually he would ease himself back to his life, and that wasn't really how Wilson wanted the arguments or disagreements to end. He wanted to fully and properly reconcile, not sweep things under the rug.

But now Maxwell was here, came to him on his own, and Wilson felt immeasurable pressure in his chest when he nervously thought that he didn't want to mess this up, not when it was Maxwell who made the first move, not when it was something that was clearly a big deal to Maxwell.

Should he say something first? He couldn't read the room when Maxwell didn't allow him to turn to see his face. Maybe Maxwell was gathering courage to start the conversation, maybe he needed Wilson to let him take his time. Or maybe he expected Wilson to start, to say he was sorry, and if he didn't Maxwell might get even more offended that Wilson just laid there quiet and cold like he didn't even care, didn't even try to settle things between them...

A slight, subtle move of Maxwell's fingers pulled the man out of his thoughts. The motion was small, very unnoticeable if you didn't know what it meant, but this was one gesture that Wilson recognized. Maxwell would sometimes start to move his hands a little before he wanted to say something, a subconscious habit perhaps, but it was a good heads-up that Wilson had learned to be aware of.

Maxwell's fingers were slowly stroking his chest in a small, round movements, until they suddenly came to halt and pressed ever so slightly closer to him.

"Did you tell Winona." It wasn't even a question, almost an accusation.

Wilson tried turning his head, confused, but Maxwell pushed him back again. Wilson obeyed and furiously shook his head "No, I would never! I mean... you clearly don't want anyone to know so I wouldn't do that to you..."

The grip let go, hand returning to lay on his chest, and even from only this small touch Wilson could feel Maxwell untensing.

"Tell me. What do you think."

"Think?"

"Of me."

It was a question that Wilson had prepared himself for, but not the one he wanted to answer. Maxwell would always be his Maxwell, but Wilson just knew he had already said something wrong, and he was terrified he would make things worse if he didn't choose his words carefully.

But careful wasn't always honest, and he preferred to speak his mind freely. Maxwell seemed to filter himself quite a lot whenever they even tried talking about something a bit more serious, and sometimes it felt wrong to be so blunt with his words, when Maxwell carefully danced around his own.

"I love you, if that's what you're asking." He started with the obvious. Very obvious to him, but sometimes it didn't seem like it was that obvious to his partner. The man in question huffed out an annoyed groan.

"No. What do you think of _me_? What do you think of... of what you saw." The last part was almost bitter, and Wilson felt like he had forced Maxwell to clear what he meant when he didn't want to, since he really didn't seem to be that fond of the subject they needed to talk about. Wilson felt bad about it.

"I... I don't care about that. I still feel the same for you, you're still the same person I fell for. Well, not the _same_ same, you're much better person now, but I... I, I don't care if you have breasts or not, I love you Maxwell. I love you, you're important to me no matter what."

The frustrated, quiet growl that he heard behind him told him that it was not the answer Maxwell had been waiting for. But it was his honest answer, it was how he felt, and he was a bit concerned that it wasn't enough for the man behind him.

"...You don't get it."

"What? I'm not sure what y-"

"You don't get it. You think you can just coo and croon to me and it's all gonna be okay if you just keep treating me like I'm too fragile to handle in any other way! I don't need your sympathy, I don't need your pity, I-"

"Maxwell it's not pity or sympathy. I mean it, I love you-"

"No, I don't want that! You're not taking this seriously, you're avoiding the point!"

"You don't want my love?"

Wilson knew what Maxwell meant, but his mouth moved on it's own, unable to stop himself from pointing it out that Maxwell was talking without thinking, too, that Wilson wasn't the only one who accidentally said things he didn't mean. But as soon as he had let the words leave his mouth, Maxwell pulled his arm away and rose, and Wilson swirled around to see the man getting up, a furious expression on his face. He wasn't even looking at Wilson, which made it somehow worse.

"Fine, I get it, I'm sorry that you're _so_ uncomfortable. Not like I care, I never even wanted to talk about it. I'll go, good night Higgsbury."

Wilson didn't let him leave, instead the man yanked his arm and pulled him back down, and even though Maxwell resisted, tried to slap him away, Wilson just pulled him down and wrapped his arms around the man that started to struggle in his hold and snapped at him to let him go. Wilson didn't, only tightening his grip.

Sometimes he was afraid that he was being wrong for forcing Maxwell to calm down and preventing him from leaving, trapping him inside his arms and keeping him there even as he made it clear he didn't want Wilson to hold him. Touching someone when they didn't want it, even if it was well-meant, it didn't sit right with Wilson. And he tried not to do it, tried not to force Maxwell to anything he didn't feel like doing, but if he didn't, then there would be too many unsettled fights, too many arguments left lingering between them, too many hurt feelings and too little apologies and understandings.

So, even when a considerably large part of him told him to let go of his partner, he didn't. He just squeezed the older man in his arms, waiting that he had either calmed down or tired himself out.

"Max, I don't understand what you want. Okay, yes, maybe I am a bit uncomfortable, but not because of you!"

That made Maxwell pause his fighting for a second, and Wilson took the opportunity to try to solve this thing "I'm uncomfortable because _you're_ clearly uncomfortable, and I don't know what to do about it. I... I don't know what else you want from me. I love you, I love you all the same no matter what. I know it can't always be enough, and I know you need something else now, but I just..." he sighed and pushed his head on the crook of Maxwell's neck, tiredly "I'm not sure what it is. I really don't care what kind of body you have, I don't care if you don't ever want me to speak about it again or if you won't let me touch you because of it, but I just, I... I like it because it's yours, and you are mine, and I love you. Just tell me what you want me to do. Please, let me show you that nothing has changed."

"... Nothing has changed? _Nothing has changed?!_ "

Wilson pulled away to meet Maxwell still furious face, cheeks red from the shame and baring his sharp teeth at Wilson. The man shrunk down from the mere sight of them (he's got bitten before), but still refused to let go of the other man.

"...Yes? I...I don't think anything is different." He tried to give Maxwell a comforting touch on the cheek, but the man yanked himself away, turning his face on his shoulder.

"Isn't it, really?"

"No, nothing is different."

"You called me a̴̿͂̍̚ ̵̎̏̉̏w̴̦̘̍͐̃̊ȯ̴͊̉̃͛m̴̥͂̌̔̕͘͜͝ͅa̵͒̐͊n̵̙̤̑͛̂̂." The word almost didn't want to come out of his mouth, but he managed to spit it out despite the fould taste it left in his mouth, not bothering to calm down or pretend he wasn't hurt, because of course he fucking was. Wilson had the nerve to be there hugging him and babbling about loving him and how he was still the same and nothing has changed when it was clearly a bad lie.

Something had changed, something was different from that one moment when Wilson became yet another person who suddenly didn't think that he was a man anymore. And if he didn't put an end to it right now, nothing good would happen. It might start as a simple little things, but soon there would be the obviously feminine nicknames, the wrong pronouns and titles slipping here and there, and then it would _really_ start. There would be things like trying to fix him, there would be accusations and blaming for not being himself, and suddenly he would realize that he has become a ̸̉w̷͌̓o̶͑̄̄m̵̓͗͘͝an̶̿ in Wilson's eyes, and he had lost his identity and self-image, and if he tried to fight it (and he always would) then at some point Wilson would get enough and leave him or do something hurtful because after all, he was a w̴̦̘̳̩̍͐̃̊ȯ̴͊̉m̴̥̺̟͕͂̌̔̕͘͜͝ͅa̵͒n̵̙̤̝̑͛̂̂ and if he didn't accept it (and he never would) he was nothing to Wilson anymore.

"I...I, I-I I didn't mean it." Wilson managed to stutter, feeling like a monster now that he understood what it was that had pissed Maxwell off so badly. It was kind of obvious, now that he thought about it. He should've guessed it right away, how dumb could he even get "I, I was confused, I was scared for you, it just came out. I was wrong, I really don't think-"

"Yeah, I've noticed." Maxwell sounded so hurt it made Wilson's stomach turn in fear, and he reached his hand to brush his fingers through the older man's hair fondly.

"I'm sorry. I love you, I love you and everything about you, I didn't mean that-"

"You certainly say that a lot, don't you? Is there a _reason_ why you suddenly have the need to tell me how much you love me all the time?"

Wilson wanted to answer 'yes, I don't want you to think that I have stopped loving you because of this', but before he was able to answer, something in Maxwell's expression changed. The burning anger faded away to something much worse, much calmer and deadlier. The man smirked at him and leaned to press his lips on his ear, brushing lightly on his skin, the hot air tickling him when Maxwell whispered.

"Oh, I know..." the malice in the taller man's voice was easy to hear, as his long fingers moved to gently pet Wilson's wrist "You're _excited_ about me now, aren't you? Want to touch me?"

If Wilson's mouth wouldn't have been so dry, he might have choked. Instead he opened his mouth without being able to say absolutely anything, staring at Maxwell, the blood rushing to his face. The man just smirked at him and grabbed his wrist, guiding it down along his stomach.

"M-Maxwell, I uh, I don't, don't think it would be wise to-"

"Shhh" the low, sly voice slithered in his ear as his hand was slipped inside Maxwell's pants "You must be very frustrated from all that waiting... You must be anxious to get to touch my body now, aren't you? Well go ahead, as you _love_ it _so_ much, it must be great to finally have it for yourself, isn't it?"

Wilson bit his lips and glowered at Maxwell, stopping his arm before the other man was able to pull it any lower, before he was able to make Wilson do something they both would regret later. Although, he secretly admitted to himself, he really did want to touch Maxwell. But he had also meant what he had said: He didn't care if he was ever allowed to touch him, he would be satisfied just to be close to him, just like he had always been.

Maxwell's grin faded only a hint, and his voice got snarly, even as he tried to keep up his smug facade "Don't be like that, pal... You want this, don't you? You certainly look very excited to touch me, so what's the matter? Never touched a̶͗̇ ̸̈́̆̏͘w̶̋̌̏͂͆õ̷͂͆̆̚m̴̊̍̉͝a̷̛̐͋͗n̴̡̠͙͚̏ before?"

Wilson shut his eyes and sighed, furrowing his brows together in attempt to keep calm and fight the frustration that was rising inside him. The magician was teasing him, even worse, Maxwell was _testing_ him, trying to make him slip and say something that would hurt him and then bully Wilson to admit that he agreed on something that he clearly didn't. Wilson didn't know what was it with this fixation that Maxwell had, to force Wilson to be almost _mean_ to him, but it got cumbersome to always fight against it.

Instead of letting go of his old habits Maxwell used to have on the throne, he just turned them around and now Wilson didn't have to worry that Maxwell would try to hurt him, no, now he had to worry that Maxwell would try to tease him until he'd hurt Maxwell.

"Maxwell, don't..." he tiredly started, but was silenced by the lips pressing on his own, and he let out a confused, surprised noise.

"Don't be nervous, just take me, I know you want to." Maxwell parted from him just long enough to whisper, and dragged his teeth on Wilson's lips, still trying to pull his hand lower, not allowing Wilson to yank it away "You'd love to touch my body anyway, because it's mine and I'm your property now because I'm a̷̢̨̰̿̇̑͆ ̸̢̱̲̥̌̈́͑͛w̷̱̘̙̍̕ơ̶͎̩͇̂͝m̵̼͕̙̩̎͐̕͠a̴͇̲̹ͅṇ̷̺̲̮̃, right? Just touch me, don't be shy."

"That's not what I said, and you know it!" Wilson snapped, turning his head away when Maxwell tried to give him another kiss "Stop acting like this, you're worrying me, Max."

"So, what? Now you _don't_ want to touch me? You don't like the body I have? Oh I'm sorry, I forgot that you like _men_ -"

"Stop trying to twist my words! And let go of me, my hand is getting tired when you're grabbing it like that!"

Maxwell let go and Wilson was finally able to pull his hand out of Maxwell's pants, and the other man leaned slightly away from him, looking down in silence. Wilson wasn't saying anything for a while either, waiting if Maxwell wanted to maybe explain himself, maybe give some kind of a reason for his bizarre behavior, but the man just scowled at nothing and sunk into himself, slowly pulling away from Wilson, inch by inch, as if he wouldn't notice if the man wouldn't draw attention to it.

Wilson only sighed, exhausted, confused and annoyed, and most of all, very very worried.

"... I really don't know what kind of answer you think you're going to get by doing that, but what I do know is that I don't have the strength to play this game with you right now. I'm just getting tired."

"...Ah. That didn't take as long as I thought it would, but sure, the sooner the better I suppose. I knew you'd get tired of me now, it was inevitable."

"I'm not tired of _you_ , I'm tired of not understanding what's going on! First you're upset that I want to touch you and then you flip around and get upset that I don't?! There's no pleasing you, you're just- You're so..."

Maxwell at least had the decency to look ashamed of toying with Wilson, and the man sighed and sat up, rubbing his hand around his face slowly, a faint, joyless smile on his face.

"I know. I'm... sorry. Yes, sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't really want to push you like that." the man muttered, leaning on his hand that was covering his eyes, and sat still for while before he continued "...I should go."

Wilson sighed and took him by the shoulder before he could stand up and leave.

"Don't go. Please."

Maxwell moved his hand to give Wilson a long stare accompanied with the raised eyebrow, but when Wilson just pouted and tightened his grip, the man let his shoulders fall and laid back down, but made sure to face away from Wilson. The shorter man hesitated moving closer, and eventually decided against it. This was one of those times when he wasn't sure if Maxwell wanted space or tenderness, and the old man sure wasn't offering any hints for him. Quite the opposite, actually, Maxwell was all over the place.

"Maxwell. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

The man didn't answer him, not even by making his usual annoyed or bored noises. Wilson scooted a bit closer, leaning his head against Maxwell's neck carefully.

"Look. I have always thought you as a man, I still do. I know what I said hurt you and you... you must think that I don't see you the same way anymore. I'm sorry. I've been really worried about you, I've been worried that you would hurt yourself or you would leave me or... or something, I don't know."

Wilson let the heavy, drained sigh leave his mouth. He knew what he felt, but it was so difficult to put to words sometimes. Especially with Maxwell. He knew that Maxwell hadn't forgotten what had happened when he was on the throne, and neither had anyone else, and sometimes Wilson felt like it was very important to really specify what he actually meant and make sure that Maxwell understood how he felt, because if he didn't, the man would start subconsciously seeking hidden meanings and words that were easy to twist to mean something they really didn't. It was getting hard sometimes. But no one ever said it was going to be easy.

"Max, I know you. Nothing that I think about you or feel for you has changed in any way. But I guess that, what you think and feel is something I can't affect..."

Maxwell turned to glance over his shoulder.

"What does that mean?"

Wilson sighed, again.

"I know I hurt your feelings pretty bad. I just, I don't know... want you to be with someone who wouldn't hurt your feelings?"

"Yes, because there are _so many_ people in here who would even tolerate me more than half a day. If I don't want to be alone, I'm pretty much stuck with you, Higgsbury."

"...Oh, uh... yeah. B-but you know, sometimes it's better to be alone than forced to be with someone who makes you feel bad-"

"Don't you think I know that?!" Maxwell turned around and scowled at him "Why do you think I've been alone all my life? Of course I'd rather be alone than with someone who doesn't want me the way I am, that's why I've never even tried to waste my time with relationships after I've learned my lesson! Why do you think I didn't want to tell you?"

Wilson blinked, trying to process what Maxwell said and the implications in there, until he suddenly realized something.

"You think... You think that I don't want you anymore?"

Maxwell gritted his teeth and turned his head away, but Wilson rose his hands to cup the other man's face and shook his head at him "Why wouldn't I want you?"

That made Maxwell snap back at him "Why would you want me? It was bad enough that you wanted me at all, I didn't think I'd have to hide this from you because I didn't think you'd want to even be near me after all I've done! And now you're saying that it doesn't even matter and you still want me, even if I'm defective and wrong-"

"You're not defective or wrong, you're just yourself!"

"Well apparently I am not what I am supposed to be! I know you don't like w̷̽͗̌̍͆ơ̵̤͚̅͆̓̐͐͘͝m̷̨̞̭̜̺͇̱̐̊̊̈́̔̕͘ę̴͓̥̞̤͙̊͋͒̒n̸̛͇͐̌̿̑ , I know I'm not what you want, am I!?"

"Okay I get it, I made a mistake and I can't take it back, but I know that you are _not_ a w̷om̸an̶͉̓, Maxwell!"

Somehow the word didn't hurt his ears as much when there was a 'not' in front of it, said by someone who he wanted to hear it from, like that. Like he knew he wasn't. He, he wanted to think that Wilson knew he wasn't, too, that Wilson believed him when he said it.

Maxwell opened his mouth, just blinking at him, face frozen in a small snarl "You don't... You really don't think I'm a w̷̃o̶man̶? But you-" the anger, the hurt rose again, to protect his insecurity like it always did "You called me-" 

"For fuck's sake, Max." Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose "I know, I know what I said, but please try to understand... I was in a bit of a stressful situation, okay? I was worried and you were passed out, and when I tried to see if you were badly hurt there were layers of bindings on you and I got confused and I wasn't expecting to see breast when I took them off to see if you were hurt. I really didn't mean it, I swear, I promise, I was just... You know how I get when I'm panicking, I stop thinking straight. You can be whatever you are. As long as it's you, I don't care about it, I just want you."

Maxwell finally fell silent, eyes boring deep into Wilson's own, and Wilson answered his stare with a stern, determined look "You can be a god damn merm if you want for all I care, I just want you to be you. With me. I... I want you to feel safe around me. And, and happy being yourself... with me. Around me."

It was not really a response that Maxwell had waited for, not necessary the one he wanted to hear, but it wasn't a bad response either. He knew that Wilson liked men (he didn't actually know if he liked women), he _knew_ he was a man, but he was so used to getting different kind of responses. He knew that not that many people saw him the way he was. He had been afraid that Wilson was going to be one of those people, too.

Wilson started caressing his cheek with his thumb, offering him a tired smile.

"It's up to you, if you want. I -"

Maxwell didn't waste time thinking what he wanted. He never did, he was never quite good at waiting. He just looked at Wilson's stupid pretty eyes for a second, pressed to kiss his stupid lips and gripped his stupid rest vest with his fingers. Wilson seemed taken aback, letting out a muffled sound that sounded like a question, but Maxwell didn't allow him to break away from the kiss. He was stupid. He was an idiot. Maxwell was so relieved that he understood.

"You really are an idiot. As if I'm going to just forget about it" he hissed and kissed Wilson's neck, making the man flinch and gasp out a small whimpery sound.

"I, I know... I'm sorry, Maxwell, I-"

"Shut up. You're gonna have to work really hard to prove me that you're sorry you absolute idiot. You moron. Stupid. Imbecile." the man whispered and kept leaving wet, pink marks on Wilson's skin. Wilson squinted his eyes and bit his lip, trying not to make another embarrassing sound under Maxwell's touch.

"...Max, I'm getting a bit of mixed signals here."

Maxwell was quiet for a while, brushing Wilson's neck with the tip of his nose and lazily moving his fingers on his chest.

"I though I made myself quite clear."

Wilson just sighed and pressed his hands on Maxwell's back, pulling him closer. The older man seemed to have calmed down, at least he wasn't testing Wilson or trying to pick the fight anymore, but just in case Wilson decided to be very careful how he chose the next words.

"... I love you."

Okay, so maybe he wasn't that careful with choosing them, but it was the first real thing that came in his mind, and it was always the one thing he wanted to say, the one thing he really wanted Maxwell to understand. To his relief, Maxwell huffed a breathy laughter on the skin of his neck.

"Shut up, I know you do."

"So uh..."

"I meant what I said. You're not off the hook that easily." there was a quick nip of sharp teeth on the younger man's skin, and he squeaked out a noise and just nodded silently. He fucked up, he could admit it, and he was going to own up to his mistakes. He really hurt Maxwell's feelings, and he'd make it up to the older man anyway he could.

"...You know, it suddenly makes sense why you can't grow a beard."

"I truly, deeply wish you couldn't either. I hate it. At least try to trim it if you're going to grow it out." Maxwell sounded less angry, less hurt, and almost just like his own grumpy, irritating, difficult self again. Wilson dragged his fingers up and down on the man's back and kissed his temple softly. The other man stopped assaulting his neck with his mouth and pulled away, and for a while they just looked at each other.

Wilson was afraid to say it out loud, but something had changed after all. Now he understood better, and he was sure that many things could be easier now that Maxwell didn't have to hide himself. He still could of course, and knowing Maxwell, Wilson was sure he was going to. But the point was that he didn't _have to_. He didn't have to be afraid when it was just him and Wilson, and maybe he'd learn to notice it too, eventually.

Maxwell shut his eyes and let his head softly bump against Wilson's and sighed, and the younger man did the same.

"...I'm gonna make you work _so_ hard, pal. I'm gonna make you really prove that you meant what you said."

Wilson tensed up and cracked his eyes open, but Maxwell had gone quiet again, eyes still shut, breathing against Wilson's forehead with a smile that was very small and relieved, maybe still a little bit unsure. It occurred to Wilson that Maxwell was maybe only half-awake at the moment.

Well, maybe Wilson deserved whatever Maxwell had in mind. If it was going to make him understand that Wilson was still here, would always be here, then yeah, he would absolutely do his best to show it.


End file.
